Tommy and Tina

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Mother/Son love story.
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An unconventional mother-son story to be sure. Condemn us if you must...

Tags: incest, mother-son

All sexual activity occurs between characters who are 18 years of age or older. I would like to acknowledge robertstream's advice on the first chapter, and Todger65's expertise in editing.

Sorry, no 42DD's, 10" appendages, or "on your six" approaches.

This story will be presented in 8 chapters. While writing this I could not help but think of all loving mothers who bade farewell to sons they reluctantly sent to war. A war from which they never returned.

*****

Chapter 1.

Let me tell you about Tina Silver. I'm her son, Tommy. She's a feisty five foot one dynamo, about 105 pounds soaking wet. Her nickname says a lot, her friends affectionately call her 'Pipsqueak'. She looks half her age and freely admits she shops in the young teenager section of the apparel stores. Mom has brown eyes, long black hair, swimsuit-model legs, narrow hips, small perky breasts and a room-illuminating smile.

Adversity, some would say tragedy, was visited upon Mom early in life. A week or two after turning eighteen she became pregnant with me. Her adoptive father's reaction to being told she was pregnant was to say "You slut, all you had to do was keep your legs closed." Her marginalized and clinically tranquilized adoptive mother said nothing in her defense. The young man's pillar-of-the-community parents didn't want a scandal; they made Mom's father an offer he couldn't and didn't refuse. Banished to live with her grandparents she dropped out of school in her fourth month of pregnancy.

While her girlfriends were preparing for their high school prom, Mom was in labor with me. She undertook the role of mother with everything she had. She did not try to enroll again in high school as she felt stigmatized and had her hands full with me.

Mom's grandparents were my grandparents too. They loved me and never tired of helping to raise me. Babysitting all day was their greatest pleasure. Call me a momma's boy: they would laugh themselves silly every time they'd tell their favorite story: when I was six years old, Grandma asked me "When you grow up and get married, how many babies do you want to have? I turned to Mom and said "Momma, how many babies should we have?"

Sadly, when I was 12 years old, Grandma and Grandpa both got sick at nearly the same time and reluctantly moved into a retirement home. Grandma soon passed, Grandpa eagerly followed her a few weeks later.

Mom found us a place to be on our own. It was a tiny apartment, one bedroom, but had an extra room big enough for my bed and my belongings. Built in the loft of a large freestanding garage, it was quiet and had privacy from nearby neighbors. She spent every waking moment doting on me. She showered me with love, and in turn I worshipped the ground she walked on. We didn't have much, but we didn't care.

Mom was a great waitress and her customers adored her. Being on her own must have been hard, but she never complained. Knowing she met men every day, and fearful one of them would take her away from me, I told Mom told at every opportunity that I loved her. Each time she would smile, give me a hug, and tell me I was the only man she would ever want in her life. She never tired of the routine.

We loved to swim. One day, she wore a mommy-looking two-piece bathing suit. She saw me looking at a faded scar on her abdomen.

"Tommy, you were a big baby, and I am very small. I was in labor for 18 hours before they did a Caesarian. They had to cut me open to bring you to me. There were complications: you are my one and only, but you are also my first and last. If anything ever happens to you I will be alone forever. Please, be careful - you must promise me you will never do anything that will cause me to lose you. Alcohol, drugs, cars, please don't do it. Even if your friends dare you, please don't do anything risky. I cannot live without you."

"I'll be careful Mom, don't worry."

She smiled, but I could see she was deeply concerned and worried.

Like most testosterone-saturated teenage boys I had insatiable fantasies; their only subject was Mom. When she was out of the house I would explore the drawer where she kept her panties and bras. I'd spread them out on her bed and revel in looking at and touching them. This most unrighteous and unholy practice was repeated numerous times, until the day Mom came home early, and upon entering her room, found me in her room with her underwear arranged on the bed. Panicked, I blurted

"This is not what it looks like..."

It was clear even while the words were being spoken that it was a lame and dumb-ass thing to say. Her eyes were wide open; she was shocked. The only course of action for me was to drop to the floor and cover my face in shame.

"I am so sorry Momma."

She reached for me, and gently lifted me up; kneeling in front of me she wiped my eyes while holding my head to her bosom in a most motherly manner. Mom's voice was soft, sweet, and tender.

"Tommy, it's alright, I understand. Don't be ashamed. You are growing up. You're at the age where you are obsessed with girls. Your body is changing, your hormones are raging, and you are no doubt confused by all of your feelings and emotions."

She struggled to find the right words, and was nearly in tears.

"It's not your fault, Tommy, it is mine. If I wasn't a slut you would have a father, and he would be helping you to work through this challenging time of your life."

The sound of the word was vulgar, profane, and dirty. All the more so coming from her lips - she would never say 'hell' or 'damn'. Regaining her composure she said

"It's normal for boys to be curious and have fantasies. Most of the women at work have shared similar stories about their sons. Let's get ready for dinner, Ok?"

Trying not to whimper I said "It wasn't right, I'll never touch your things again. Please forgive me."

"I already have. I love you more than you'll ever know, and I always will."

"Mom... please never say that word again."

She didn't ask for clarification of which word I was referring to. She tried to diffuse the tension with small talk. Breaking into her mischievous smile, pointing to the clothes on the bed she said "Tommy, which ones are your favorites?"

"Mom..."

"Tommy..."

"Mom, please..."

"Tommy..."

Sheepishly pointing to her sheer cyan satin panty and bra I could barely get out the words

"Only angels wear things so beautiful."

She seemed taken aback by my response.

"Those are my favorites too. But Tommy, I am your mother. It's not a good thing for you to think about me in in that way."

Wanting to argue that point, but feeling her good graces had been pushed to the limit, I kissed her cheek and said 'sorry' again. I slithered away to set the table for dinner.

If there were any lingering repercussions, Mom never let on. Her privacy was never again violated, but thereafter, whenever they were washed, her cyan panty and bra were neatly folded and placed prominently on the top of the laundry stack.

Chapter 2.

High school graduation was quickly approaching. Not wanting to leave Mom, I decided to enlist in the local Army National Guard. The first week of June, just after my eighteenth birthday I raised my right hand and was scheduled for ten weeks of basic combat training in July. Mom was relieved that I'd be staying close. She said it would be hard for her not being with me, especially for ten long weeks. A few nights later, we were lying on the couch, not paying much attention to the TV. Mom was in front of me, dressed in jeans and a tank top. Turning to face me, I innocently ran my hand up and down her back. The subject got to my remaining senior class activities.

"Tommy, aren't you going to go to your senior prom next week? You really should go, you only get one chance. I've always wished I could have gone to mine."

"I don't think so, Mom. I've never had a girlfriend and I don't want to ask someone who doesn't care about me or only wants someone to take her to the prom."

"Tommy, surely there must be someone you'd like to ask."

"There might be... no."

"Well..."

"There is maybe one..."

Excited now, Mom said

"Well, who?"

Turning Mom so her back was to me, starting at her shoulder, on her back with my finger I wrote out the letter "M".

"Mary Higgins? Tommy, she's trouble."

"No..."

In the middle of her back I wrote out the letter "O".

"Monique Anderson? She seems nice enough, but I don't see her being your type."

"No..."

On the lower part of her back, I wrote a bold capital letter "M".

Mom looked at me, and turning so we were face-to-face, she held me in a huge hug. Her legs pressed tightly into mine, and I could feel her petite breasts pressing into my chest.

"That's such a wonderful thought, but Tommy, I couldn't."

"Sure you could."

She recited a long list of excuses, including "I shouldn't", "It wouldn't look right", "What would the chaperones think", "Your friends will think it is weird", "We can't afford a limo" and "What would I wear?"

When we arrived at the prom in our beat-up but waxed and detailed car, Mom was wearing a hemmed-up borrowed bridesmaid gown and appeared to be a candidate for prom queen. She looked much younger than her age; her petite-ness and perky 'up high' breasts gave her the body of a teenager. With her beautiful complexion, lightest of makeup and shiny straight black hair, she fit right in with the other girls who were made up to the hilt and dressed to the nines. We received plenty of envious looks. Mom had a great time; we danced every dance. The chaperones swooned at the young couple in love.

"You make such a lovely pair" one of them said to us. Mom blushed, but she was absolutely thrilled.

It was a textbook case of arrested development: Mom's life had been put on hold at age 18; tonight was her grand 'push play to resume' moment. Two awkward emotionally-aged eighteen-year-old innocents relished every minute of the senior prom rite-of-passage.

We skipped the after-prom activities, and went straight home. We got ready to watch movies and settled in on the couch. Mom wore her new cotton robe over what I was pretty sure was her cyan bra and panty. We were on our left sides, Mom a bit lower on the couch. Reaching for the remote to turn on the TV, Mom interrupted and said we first needed to share a special after-prom kiss.

It was really special.

When it was over we both felt more than a little awkward about what we should or should not do for an encore. The TV was on, but neither of us paid much attention to it. Mom smiled, then sighed and rolled face down toward me while I ran my hand more-or-less innocently from her neck to the small of her back. My eyes were closed and I was really lost in the moment when Mom stirred. We both repositioned ourselves; all sense of time and place became irrelevant. The next upward movement of my hand ran it inadvertently over her breast as my fingers instinctively cupped it. She let out a guttural moan and her body shuddered from head to toe. My heart stopped and neither of us breathed for a few seconds. Eyes wide open, I looked at Mom for her reaction. Our eyes locked, but her face gave no clue what she was thinking. Gently, she took the errant hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it.

"It's alright, Tommy, these things can happen when two people are so close."

Pondering whether she meant 'in relationship' or 'proximity', before her words could be completely parsed she rather abruptly said "Good night Tommy."

After a rather perfunctory kiss, she moved quickly to her room. Sitting on the couch I felt like a total idiot. Alone and dejected I tried to contemplate what had just happened. I heard her crying. Surely I had broken her trust and she was disappointed in me and I anguished over what I should do. Gathering up every ounce of my courage I knocked lightly and opened her bedroom door. She was face down on her bed with a pillow over her head muffling her sobs. Kneeling down at the side of her bed my hand gently caressed the back of her neck.

"Mom, I'm so very sorry. Honestly..."

"Tommy, it's me who should be sorry, not you. There's nothing for you to apologize about."

She pulled the pillow off her head and moved to my side of the bed. Grabbing a tissue I tenderly wiped her swollen eyes. She put her hand behind my neck and pulled me to her, bestowing another special kiss.

"Tommy, I love you more than you'll ever know."

"I love you too, Mom. Please don't cry, please come back and watch the rest of the movie with me."

She seem conflicted, but then she smiled and said "Alright Tommy, I will. I love you."

On the couch, spooned in front of me, Mom soon fell asleep. Taking my arm off her long enough to use the remote to turn off the TV, she stirred, and she put her hand over mine. Soon we both were asleep, holding each other close. Neither of us ever brought up the subject of her crying that night.

We spent most nights together watching TV and talking. Being eighteen and oh, so extra-virgin, and obsessed with all things love and sex, my questions were always thinly disguised in the context of her.

"Mom, how do you know if a girl wants you to kiss or touch her?" With a rueful smile she hesitated before giving what sounded like a confession.

"Tommy, I'm afraid I really can't help you much, I'm no expert. My only real experience was my first - and last - formal date. I had just turned eighteen; we were both starting our senior year in few weeks. I was a skinny, flat-chested girl that none of the boys ever paid attention to. When he asked me to go to a movie I was a nervous wreck. My girlfriends helped me with my makeup and hair, and they picked out the clothes for me to wear. Everything that happened was my fault, really. After the movie we ended up alone in his car. I shouldn't have let him take me parking, I mean, first date and all. Good girls don't act that way, but he was so charming that it didn't seem wrong."

Mom was distant, vividly reliving the past.

"He told me 'You're so beautiful.' No one ever said that to me. 'I've had a crush on you for a year. I'm so happy you went out with me'. He had my heart soaring to the stars. I loved the feeling of kisses and being held by him. Then he started to get really touchy-feely and I got scared. He began to turn from the boy of my dreams into an aggressive monster. He kept grabbing at me and soon he discovered I was wearing a padded bra. He laughed at me."

She shook her head and wiped tears from her eyes.

"He laughed at me."

Reaching for Mom I held on to her for dear life.

"He said 'What kind of stupid slut would try to get a guy with fake tits?' He was so cruel. He kept saying horrible things, it was worse than what he did to me."

She composed herself somewhat.

"Nine months after that night I had you in my life. You must know this: you were worth it. If that's what I had to go through to find the love of my life it was worth it. No regrets, none at all. I love you more than you'll ever know. I always will."

I concluded no voices from the Nine Choirs of Angels were in attendance singing joyfully during my conception. How much Mom had been through! Her first date rapes her physically and psychologically. Her father, the one man who should have helped her heal from the trauma, rubs salt in her wounds and abandons her. Both of these A-holes made sure her wounds festered by planting the thought in her head that she was an s-l-u-t. Karma: may they both be bent over when receiving theirs.

Mom was two personalities; one, a scared and confused eighteen year-old girl; the other, a mother who was solemnly committed to do whatever was best for her son. I thought it best not to ask any more questions.

"Mom, let's go for a walk. There's supposed to be a spectacular meteor shower tonight."

There wasn't, but it was a little lie for the greater good. We only saw one shooting star, but walking hand in hand and oh-so-close, we had a great time and it did wonders for her soul.

A week before my basic training we were in the kitchen. Mom was in a good mood, so I asked "Mom, do girls think about romance and those things as much as boys do?"

"Hmmm...no, absolutely not. Unlike boys, girls often let their thoughts go to other things - even practical things."

"Ouch! That hurt, Mom."

Laughing, she said "You walked right into that one; watch where you're going next time."

Venturing a more serious question, "Mom, did you ever go on dates when I was a kid?

Mom looked into my eyes. Frowning, she said "Define 'date'. They took me to nice places, but I took my time to see what their intentions were. It was pretty clear they all thought single mothers were an easy mark so I gave up on dating. I knew I'd never find a respectable man. No respectable man would date a slut that got pregnant before she could finish high school."

Raising my voice to my mother for the first time of my life I said "Mom, stop it! I hate that word - it doesn't even apply to you."

Startled, she composed herself and finished her thoughts.

"Anyway, men aren't attracted to women like me. I have small hips. I'm barely past a training bra. I look like a 10-year-old boy wearing a wig. You love me Tommy, that's more than enough for me. You are the only man in my life. I know you love me and will never hurt me. I love you more than you'll ever know."

"Mom you are beautiful. You are so cute and feminine. When we're out together men can't keep their eyes off you. Any man would fall in love with you at first sight... I did a long time ago."

Mom gracefully approached me. Warmly she gave me a most beautiful hug. On tiptoes she reached for my face, pulling it to her and caressing it with both hands she kissed me on my lips. It was unlike any kiss we'd shared before - even the after-prom kiss - or one that I had even dreamt possible. Moving her hands from my face, she embraced me again. Her pert breasts were warmly pressed against me. It was the most sensuous feeling this hopelessly socially-inept virgin ever experienced. We were in no hurry to end the embrace.

Looking me in the eyes Mom said "I love you more than you'll ever know."

One last tender kiss on my lips, with a sigh she went to her room. I stood there, dizzy with emotion.

**********

The night before leaving for basic training was bittersweet. We again spent the evening on the couch. After a few hours, Mom excused herself, went to her room, and returned adorned in her white satin robe. When she reached over to pass our photo album to me, her partially opened robe revealed her beautiful cyan bra underneath. My heart rate doubled; was it a coincidence she wore it? We cuddled, hugged and kissed, and I began rubbing my hands up and down her back. She melted into me. After a few minutes of this, she made a low moaning sound, got all flustered and went into the kitchen. She returned few minutes later.

Near midnight she said "We'd better go to bed. You need your sleep for your big day. Will you tuck me in and kiss me goodnight?"

She smiled and went to her room. I nervously waited a few minutes, and when I got to her room her robe was neatly folded on her dresser and she was under the covers.

"Please Tommy, one last kiss and a hug."

Lying down beside her, on top of the covers, we were face to face. I tenderly kissed her lips. My right arm over her, we savored the moment. I wanted this to last forever.

The sun was rising when the alarm went off. Mom was under her covers with my arm still draped over her. Technically speaking, I had spent my first night in bed with a woman. Better yet: it was with Mom!